Lions and Bluejays
by Max Phrost
Summary: A dystopian Pokémon story set in post-apocalyptic Sinnoh. As the government struggles to control a population desperate for revolution, one young trainer fights to stay out of their watchful eye and keep himself alive. The official stand-alone sequel to Blood and Snow. Only six chapters and probably won't be more, but if you wanted to know what came next here it is.
1. Prologue

PART ONE: THIS IS (NOT) WHERE I BELONG

PROLOGUE

I don't like this. With every breath comes a sharp, sterile smell that makes me think of sickness and death. The air is thick with voices, overlapping and twisting around each other in a clamor of sounds with no recognizable pattern. Loud clangs accompany them, metal sliding into metal. It almost carries a musical quality, but not anything I would want to hear.

Something shifts on my chest- no, _in_ my chest. Among the other noises comes something fleshy, a liquid squish that's closer to me than everything else. There's something moving inside of me, something small pressing toward my heart. Something, something, something. I try to open my eyes but can't. A great heaviness weighs down on my eyelids, as if I'm asleep and too exhausted to make them work. But I'm not sleeping, and I'm not tired.

Cold, a type of cold I've never felt before, washes over my chest. It makes the deepest part of me feel chilled, freezing slowly like I've been forced to swallow a gallon of ice water. There's a shout, completely alien to me in its words and sound. It echoes in my skull, bouncing off the other noises and ricocheting until it's stopped dead by a different sound. Stronger, more clear and determined than anything else. It's a drum, a steady beat that keeps me grounded to the uncomfortable surface I'm lying on.

Holding on to that sound, I attempt to move. My fingers are first, sitting against a cold, stiff fabric and bent just slightly. I pour every ounce of effort, every ounce of willpower in my body, into making some movement, some twitch. I want control. I want to know this is still my body, still my own bones and muscles and cells and heart.

I feel it after it happens. The third joint on my right ring finger bends toward the surface below me, pushing the tip harder into the fabric. It takes an insane amount of work just to perform something so small.

White-hot panic courses through me; I need to open my eyes to see what's inside my chest and what's in the air around me. Letting my finger relax, I re-focus all of my attention on my eyelids. I almost feel it, the smallest lift, but it's only on the right. The effort is too much and I let it go. I hate lying here, waiting and waiting for someone to tell me what the hell is going on. I know I don't have a choice, but at the same time I know this is wrong. In the depths of my mind I know I have to fight this, I have to stay awake.

There's movement in my throat and against my lips. It pushes inside of me, slipping deeper and deeper into my body. A terrible urge to vomit surges through me but I can't. I can't for the same reason my eyes won't open. The control is gone. Something is acting on me that I can't hold off. The strange squishing sound gets louder, overwhelming my ears and slipping deep into my brain. A second object reaches into my chest and presses against me. I feel a slick, sudden pull and a heavy breath bursts in my ears. But it is not my own. There is something over me, a living presence lending heat to my open chest. It stirs the air, making it shudder and shift as it slowly moves back.

I hear another shout. Louder this time, and almost clear. It reaches up to my ears from just beneath a heavy film of thick, dirty water. I try to grasp it, try to break the surface, but my fingers aren't strong enough and the sound disappears. Then the sensation in my throat grows stronger, snaking down and down further inside of me. A rush of air, of sweet, powerful oxygen, explodes in my chest. It starts to slink away, to crawl back to wherever it came from, but something forces it back inside of me.

Pressure builds on my right arm, and I feel a prick of pain in one very acute spot. The pressure doesn't leave, and whatever created it slides farther beneath my skin. Warmth holds it down, two thick weights grasping hard to my arm. They push into me and I feel a light tug, then the weights vanish as quickly as they appeared. A strange substance replaces them, elastic and thin over the tiny point of pain.

The intrusions into my chest are gone. The same cold remains, numbing me, holding me. I can still hear that heavy beat, that steady noise keeping me from losing my mind. A thin film, similar to the substance on my arm, is pressed over my chest. Careful but firm weights push down on my skin, the substance sticking tightly to its place.

I want to open my eyes so badly it burns in my brain. I have to know what this pressure is, what these bodies are around me. More than anything I have to see what's happened to my chest and where that strange sound came from. I gather my courage again, and force my effort into the muscles of my eyelids. The same heaviness weighs down hard, battling against me. It seals my eyes shut, and no matter how hard I try the most I can do is get a tiny twitch on the right. The left does not move, and for a panicked, fleeting

moment I wonder if there's anything there. I beg the eye to move, to confirm that I do, indeed, have something on the left side of my face.

But before I can learn anything from it a powerful wave of exhaustion slams into my mind, shattering any effort to control my own body. With an unbreakable, incredible grip it sinks its claws into my consciousness and pulls me down. I'm treading against it, struggling to get back to the surface of my thoughts. I have to fight it, I have to wake up and regain control of my mind. I know that if I lose this battle I'm losing something much more than a few precious seconds of consciousness. I'm losing a hold on myself, my grip on reality.

It keeps pulling me down, farther and farther into the heavy, silent depth of sleep. A terrible weariness slackens my thoughts. Weakness overwhelms me, breaking down any hope I have to set myself free. But before it pulls me under completely a new feeling reaches up through the heavy fog in my mind. Hatred races into my veins and snarls at the force pushing against me. Like a crazed beast struggling against its assailant, the hatred fights, grasps, claws, and seizes until there's nothing left. It sinks back into the depths with the rest of me, growling and hissing as it falls into darkness.

Light blazes in my mind, hitting a spot behind my eye and making my mouth wrench open in a silent, stolen scream. I take in a sharp, excruciating breath, my lungs screeching for air. The brilliance of the white light blinds me, forcing my eye shut tightly against the powerful burn. Something grasps my arm, fingers like claws as they yank my body backward. My own bones come to life, and I blink rapidly to rid my eye of the pain. I try to grab at the hands on me, but something keeps my arms held down hard. Straps bite into my skin as I pull against them. A flash, a spark of memory bursts in my mind, and I shudder. Yelling mingled with the pound of running feet as my body lifted off the ground and was laid carefully on a weak stretcher. It groaned beneath my weight, and I fought inside the fog of pain to open my eye for a brief moment. A blue gaze, strangely familiar and filled with unflinching adrenaline, stared back at me.

The memory fizzles out as suddenly and quickly as it came. Slowly, painfully, my eye adjusts to the light. It aches with the effort of staying open after being closed for so long. I realize there are voices around me, a few short bursts of sound that at first I don't understand. I suck in a shuddering breath, the world around me shivering into focus. My head pulses with pain, exhaustion gripping me down to the very deepest parts of my brain.

I gasp for breath, swallowing back the vomit that surges through my throat without any warning. My neck is bent down, my eyes locked on my lap. I can see the sickly, bare skin of my knees, everything above it covered in a thin green cloth. The images begin to dance and sway, pain rushing through my skull. I squeeze my eye shut, willing it to work.

"Hello," my eye opens wide and I jolt my head up to see where the voice came from. A man slowly comes into focus, sitting before me with one leg crossed over the other. He looks comfortable, relaxed. Beyond him I can see vague blobs of color floating, at first seeming to be very many in number. They shiver and shudder in the air before coming to a stop, allowing me to finally see there are three separate shapes.

Another memory blinks into my mind. A girl, small but strong, holds out a red object to me with an image and a page of information on its small screen. She speaks in an even, if exasperated, tone, her bright green eyes gleaming in the faint light.

My heart skips a beat and I struggle against the bands holding me down to the chair. The man in front of me doesn't move, but someone behind me does. A pair of strong, unyielding hands force weight on to my arms. A short, strangled cry escapes my lips. I know her. The girl, I remember her face and her name and everything. She _is_ everything.

It was chasing her that brought me here. Chasing after the person who took her from me, hunting for revenge in a wretched hive. I cry out again, pushing my feet as hard as I can into the ground. I need to get out. I don't where I am, but I can't be here. The man across from me shifts slightly, and the weight on my arms grows stronger.

"I didn't expect you to have so much strength. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? You not only survived the Quarantine for over four years, but the botched surgery on the way here as well…" he shakes his head and the image blurs. I squint hard, anger boiling in my veins. "It doesn't matter now; everything is going to be okay. You're safe here, in the most skilled hands in the nation." His voice sounds filtered, as if it's blocked by a thin wall. "We can protect you here. You can start over."

I don't care about anything he has to say. An almost animalistic snarl tears through my throat and I thrash in the chair. The grip on my arms is strangling now, making my muscles burn as I fight to escape. Ready to tear whatever is holding me down to shreds with whatever I can, I turn my hate-filled gaze to my arms. Purple mist, as thin as a light fog but stronger than steel, keeping me pinned to the arm rests. The two weights almost look like hands, their shapes barely visible. Once again I am reminded of that girl, of the green-eyed girl I gave everything to avenge.

Haunter. Someone's Haunter is holding me down. I never would have thought a Ghost-type could have so much weight and power. But I know it's Haunter instinctively, as if someone told me flat-out that's what it was. "Let me go," I growl, letting my muscles relax. My throat and mouth burn as I force out the words, my chest begging for clean air.

"That's interesting… you shouldn't be able to speak." The man moves his legs so they're flat on the ground. One of the purple blobs behind him shifts to his side, and he sits up to take something from his pocket.

"Let me go." It's easier this time. The pain is leaving, finally giving me control over my own body. "Let me go."

"I can't do that. I'm sorry, but this is for your own good. We wouldn't have to restrain you so much if you'd stop fighting." He stands suddenly and holds out his hand. Something stops him and with a pang of hatred I don't understand, I realize there's a glass wall between us. "I understand you're upset and scared, but we only do this to protect you and everyone else in the city." He shakes his head, making a loud clicking noise that echoes against the glass. "We will keep you here for sixty days. You're lucky we found you now and no earlier; before this we would simply execute anyone who escaped the Quarantine. After all, at that point we couldn't possibly know who could be a carrier, or even an infected. We decided that now, after four years, anyone alive must have something worth saving about them."

"Let me go." The weight on my hands is crushing me, setting my bones on fire with pain. "Let me go!"

His thick brown eyebrows furrow. "Relax. I can do no more than promise you will be safe and happy in just a few hours." He sighs heavily and turns around, gesturing to one of his floating balls of gas. It produces for him a black PokeBall with golden lines on it, and somewhere in the back of my mind I know it's an Ultra Ball. "Alakazam," he calls simply, a bright flash of light searing into my brain. A large bipedal Pokémon stands beside him, its eyes glowing in the dark. "Do not fight it. You cannot," he says simply as he turns back to me.

I cry out for them to release me and surge forward in my seat, half-expecting the Haunter to keep me held down. But it doesn't, leaving me to fall out of the chair and to the ground, my head slamming hard against the dirty concrete. Breathing heavily, I push my palms into the floor and struggle against the pain that

explodes in my body. I manage a slight sitting position, my face pressed to the glass separating me from the man with the Ghastly.

He bends down and looks at me, his cool, dark eyes locking on to mine. I glare at him as best I can, wishing I could spit at his feet. "And I must apologize for your eye. We could fix much of the scarring, but the eye itself was damaged far beyond repair. I can only wonder about the horrors you've seen." He stands slowly, watching me with pity as if I'm some tortured creature. "Alakazam, begin." With that he vanishes into the fog of Ghastly behind him. I scream for him to come back, order him not to leave, but it doesn't matter. He's gone. Left me alone with the Alakazam.

Something tears through my thoughts, rips me from my consciousness into the blackness I climbed out of. I grasp my skull, pulling at my hair and sliding to the dirty ground as I battle against the grip on my mind. It struggles inside of me, ripping and tearing. Suddenly it sinks its claws into something powerful and wrenches upward, my eye widening as I feel it pull my thoughts away from me. I don't understand what's happening; I don't understand who is fighting me or where they came from. I don't know where I am or how I got here. And with a slow, sickening grasp at consciousness I realize I don't know _who I am_.

But before I let the darkness completely overtake me something reaches through it. It doesn't pull me out, but it keeps me hanging there as the claws surge around me. The force anchors me to it, even as whatever is taking over engulfs me.


	2. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE: FORTY DAYS LATER

I wake to a soothing, gentle voice carefully pulling me awake. It comes from a spot just above my head, from speakers set into the wall behind me. The volume increases gradually, meant to be as relaxing as possible. I'm not supposed to be jarred from my sleep; I'm supposed to be drawn from it. First it tells me the time, then the date. I need to wake up, it says, because I have a "task" at nine o'clock.

"Your presence is requested at the Hearthome City Gymnasium." On any normal day I'd wake up two hours earlier and take a short bus ride to a massive factory complex on the edge of the city. The goal for years now has been to make Hearthome City completely self-sustaining, and the packaging plant where I work is a testament to that. I walk in at six-thirty and stand at a single spot on an assembly line for the next six hours, pressing unmeat into air-tight containers with a giant steel machine. Lunch is short, then we're back to the line and stuck there until we're off at seven. Everything is designed for maximum efficiency, and no one seems to mind the grueling shifts and nonexistent pay. We work for the good of the city, and in return we are given everything we could possibly need. Food, shelter, clothing –all free and available to us provided we work to our maximum ability. The people who can't or don't vanish from my sight. Just two weeks ago the old woman beside me on the line passed out and had to be removed by the guards. I haven't seen her since.

I don't know where they go, or what they do after they're gone. It's amazing enough to me that after only forty days I've become accustomed to the world they've given me here. What came before this is a messy blur to me, fragmented but not forgotten. No one has mentioned the Quarantine, or given the slightest implication that it even exists. Topics of conversation here are extremely limited, whether by choice or by the watchful eye of the city. We discuss work, and the weather, and the painfully benevolent contests held in the city's center. They seem to keep people happy, and I play along like I think they're anything more than silly distractions.

As much as I pretend to understand these people, as much as I keep my thoughts restrained and my face a carefully relaxed mask, I know the city's watching me. The first time I caught them I was working, too focused at first to notice. I don't know how long they stood there, an older man and his Duskull, but once I saw them I couldn't put my mind back where it should be. I imagined at first that they were inspectors, but I knew no inspector would have a Duskull. Ghost-types are reserved for Officials. Regular people are given weak normal or grass-types with everstone-laden collars.

The more I tried not to think about him the more I felt his eyes burning into the back of my skull, causing my palms to sweat and my fingers to tremble. How ridiculous, I realized, that after only a few weeks the city has made me afraid, bent me to its will. The official did nothing to me, just watched in silence, and yet my heart raced with fear. That night I told myself he wasn't even there for me- that surely he was there to watch after some other worker, but I could not force the terrible paranoia from my thoughts.

I can't escape feeling like I've done something wrong. I can't believe the other people here know nothing about the Quarantine, but I can see in their blank expression that they have nothing to hide. The past four years of my life have been ruled by a strange and powerful plague, a horrible disaster that, while still in its clutches, I believed had consumed the entire world. But these people know nothing of it. Could it be true that they've simply never heard of what happened? Or am I not supposed to remember?

My dreams are constant reminders of what happened to me. Even if I can escape the memories during the day, at night they come back in near-perfect detail. Faces, battles, scars, and blood. I see flashes of my life played out with painful accuracy whenever I close my eyes. Maybe they were what gave me away. It's no secret that the city watches us while we sleep –maybe my nightmares put up some kind of red flag.

If that's the case, there's nothing I can do. Whatever the city decides, I must comply with it. Fighting back will only get me killed. It's pathetic and sickening how fast we fall to our knees when our lives are at stake. Giving in, choosing to go with the current instead of against it, has taught me more than I'd care to know about myself. What it boils down to, what the past four years of my life have proven, is that I don't want to die. I'll sacrifice anything to keep my heart beating.

Here, inside the walls of the city, I've given away what matters most. Because no matter how many times I tell myself I'll find them, that I'll eventually break through the endless cycle of work and rest, I know I won't. The hopelessness of this place, the inevitability of the system, is too heavy to lift.

I want my team mates back, and the thought that I may never see them again hurts more than any physical pain I've ever felt. Whenever my thoughts stray that's where they go -back to the tiny moments of peace we had as a family that kept me alive inside the Quarantine. Back to an abandoned building in Jubilife, or a riverbank outside of Floaroma. If I think hard enough, I can see the way the orange sunlight reflected off the Driftloon as they returned to their home, or the way the fire flickered across our faces while we talked.

I remember every time I stared at death, or every time the violence of our lives pressed too hard for me to bear. It was a different inevitability then, one in which every day was harder than the last instead of exactly the same.

Today is a change, for better or for worse. I find no comfort in the system, but somehow breaking the schedule I've followed for forty days now puts me on edge. I've never seen a civilian leave the Gymnasium. Maybe that's because I've only seen the Gymnasium a handful of times, but the thought makes me restless all the same. It's possible that I'm just not compatible with this city, and removing an anomaly is simply what makes the most sense to do. I want so badly for them to exile me, as strange as that sounds. To be honest I'm not sure if that's something they do, but if it is I hope they find it ideal for my situation.

"Lucas Platina, your clothing for today has been selected and is ready for pickup from the compressor. These are not your regular work clothes, so you may find them somewhat uncomfortable. We assure you, however, that they are ideal for your task." With a yawn I slide my legs off the bed and on to the cold

wood-panelled floor. I take a moment to rub my eyes, thinking for the first time in weeks about how strange it is to have both of them back. The new one is not my own, but a donor I received before my work started. The coloring is off, with more blue now in the left than the right. But in the darkness of the factory no one seems to notice. Regardless, it works perfectly. There's certainly something strange about using an eye that isn't my own, but I choose not to think about it.

The hardwood creaks beneath my bare feet as I pad lazily across the room. A mirror stands on the other side, my reflection growing larger until I can't see the tips of my hands anymore. I pat my thick black hair down, running my fingers through the unkempt strands. I don't bother to use a comb; it's easier to just fix it without one.

For a moment my uneven gaze lingers on a small scar pressed into my dark, bare chest. It's a bullet wound, the last reminder of what I did for revenge. I very gently run a finger around its edges, tracing the mark against my olive skin. Many of the scars I earned the last couple years were cleaned into neat, pale lines when I arrived in Hearthome. Only small shadows of them remain, in the puckered skin of my face or the ragged, pale lines on my back. This one still looks real and fresh, not glazed over and prettied like the others. Something about it is fitting to me, like I need at least one awful scar to look like myself.

Peeling my eyes from the mirror, I take my clothes from the dresser and unfold them on my bed. Brown pants, brown shirt, orange vest. Odd, but whatever. I was warned that these weren't like my regular work clothes, and I'm certainly not disappointed. A pair of green boots materializes out of the compressor where the rest of the clothes came from, and I pull those on over the pants because it's the only way they'll fit.

Turning back to my reflection, I give a little sigh and shrug. I certainly look strange, but I suppose it could be worse. Only now do I see that I remember this outlandish costume. It's trainers' clothing, from the Sinnoh Corps. They put together a group of Ace Trainers and send them out all over the country to perform various tasks to keep the peace. They're like policemen, but not entirely. I suppose they're something like elevated civilians, not bound to any particular place or needing to respond to a force. From what I know, they operate as a very loose unit.

I haven't seen Ace Trainers since I was really young. They don't frequent the area around Twinleaf Town because the Pokémon and regular trainers there tend to be so weak. But I still recognize the eccentric outfit easily, and it sets my thoughts racing. Why would they give this to me? I assumed I was about to be punished, but this seems to imply something completely different. Are they taunting me, knowing that I'll remember what these clothes mean? No, that would be pointless. The city isn't malevolent, just orderly to an incredible degree.

Maybe it's a test. Maybe they don't know for sure if I still have my memories, and putting this on me is a way to know for sure if I remember my past. I decide not to give any more away to the camera watching me from the corner of my room. I zip the vest up completely and take the Poketch from my desk. It was given to me once my work started, and it's only purpose is apparently to remind me when to complete certain tasks. There are a bunch of other functions on it, including a phone, but I've never had any reason to use them.

The other "vital article" is my ID card, which fits neatly into the pocket of my vest. I need it to do anything in the city, as it keeps a log of how much work I've completed. If I do everything I'm supposed to, I can get whatever I want –to a certain degree. There's a complicated system of what I can and can't get at certain times, but I don't understand it so like most people I tend to just slide the card and see what happens.

I stop at my door and nod to the camera. "Thank you," my voice is clear and loud. The speakers above my bed return a friendly "you're welcome" to me. It sounds light and amiable, but forgetting to be polite and thank your city for waking you up and getting you ready every morning is cause for a little black mark on your record. And the last thing I need is another reason to get called to the Gym.


	3. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: BY THE LIGHT OF MORNING

There's nothing personal about the city. Everything is public and communal. Even our bathrooms are shared, with one large set for each floor. They put them by the stairs for maximum time efficiency, so we don't have to walk all the way down the hall and then back. Outside of the apartment we wait at a large, enclosed bus stop. I haven't seen a single cyclist since I started working and walking is only acceptable for people going around the corner. Everyone else takes the bus.

The buses are smart too- when we walk in there is a scanner for our card that records where we're going. The bus then notes who must go to a certain destination, adjusts its route accordingly, and then drives us there. When we need to get off, we scan our card again. If we don't -and this is from what I understand, not from what I've witnessed- we won't be able to leave. It causes a lot of chaos and a lot of trouble, not just for whoever wants to get off in the wrong place but for any other commuter as well. Even something as minor as wanting to go somewhere new can get you written up.

I'm not riding with the usual crowd today. Normally I'm surrounded by co-workers who chatter about only the most inane of topics. _"The city gave me some new toothpaste; it's bright blue with a line in the middle. My old one was just blue." "I got a scuff on my shoe yesterday. Might you know how to take it off?" "It's much colder this week than last week. I think winter's coming early!"_ and so on and so forth.

This too, might have been where the city saw my failure as a citizen. There is a certain ease with which everyone else seems to speak, a rhythm that goes unbroken until I stammer out a response. Over time I've tried to mimic it, but I can't get it right. I'll be fine for a few days, but suddenly I'll be asked a question mid-yawn and need to ask someone to repeat themself. They never notice, never show any signs of discomfort, but I do. I can tell I'm off, that something about me just doesn't fit.

Thankfully I don't need to worry about disrupting my rhythm today, because the city did it for me. The bus is full of shopkeepers and rations workers, who have no need to go to work until about eight-thirty. As I suspected, there is a rhythm to their conversation as well. None of them address me, but not out of spite or unfriendliness; they are simply too preoccupied to notice my presence. I'm completely okay with this, because I'd rather be alone and to myself.

I take a seat in the corner of the bus, towards the back, because I know the gym is the farthest destination. We move swiftly and without trouble through the city, and for the first time it's light enough for me to see out the window.

The streets are empty. Occasionally I spot an Official or two, but in general the city looks completely abandoned. It strikes me as strange that Jubilife, a truly lifeless city, seemed to have more activity than a place that claims to be as populated and industrial as Hearthome. The buildings are dark and tall, but rounded and spaced well enough that they don't seem intimidating or crushing. I can see the sun poking through them, shining so brightly it burns to look at. For forty days I have hardly seen it. Supposedly men get sick with so little sunlight, but supposedly we are given enough artificial light in our rooms and workplaces that we're kept healthy.

The bus slows to a gentle stop, and the same calm voice that woke me up this morning tells us we've reached the commerce center. Commerce is apparently a very strong word, because the storefronts are bland and unwelcoming. That is because there is no need for attractive storefronts in Hearthome. Shops

are organized by necessity. There is one unmeat shop, one bakery, one spice store. Supposedly, any more would just be superfluous. As the city determines how much we can buy of each product and when, giving people more choices would be pointless. The shops' stock is determined by the city, as well as how much each product is worth.

I've been here before, after work. It looks completely different after dark, and I have to wonder who actually goes to these stores during the day. I suppose Officials might, but that's hardly enough to qualify as a real customer base.

After everyone is off, the bus starts moving again. Finally alone, I sigh and lean my head back against the seat. Thinking about the intricacies of the city makes my head hurt, so I decide to just stop. It's beyond my realm of comprehension, a fact I've come to accept extremely well. For a long moment I close my eyes, enjoying the soft rumble of the bus over the rails and the lack of human noise. It would be relaxing if my heart didn't beat so fast, if I could actually get over the steadily building panic in my chest. My thoughts too frequently wander back to my task, back to where I was headed and all the things I might be headed there for.

The bus comes to a quiet stop again. "Now arriving at Hearthome City Gymnasium. Have a lovely day." My eyes blink open and I sit up, feeling as though the ground is falling out from beneath me as I scan my card and step off the bus. I struggle to keep my mind under control, to stop the shaking in my hands and the sweat on the back of my neck. Whatever I'm about to do, I'm resigned to it. I cannot change what's been assigned to me, unless I suddenly decide to make a mad dash out of the city.

For a moment I consider it, glancing down the street to my left. But I know it's nonsense, that nothing could possibly look more suspicious than a man in Trainers' Corps clothes bolting down the sidewalk. I would get attacked and possibly killed immediately. Swallowing hard, I wipe my hands on my pant legs and take a long look at the building before me. If I were a truly normal, born-and-raised citizen, this building would be extremely strange to me. But I've seen gyms before; I've even had a legitimate league battle in one of them. I earned two badges, the locations of which I really wish I knew.

Then again, if I were a truly normal, born-and-raised citizen I would likely not be here at all. My Poketch beeps, reminding me that my task is in fifteen minutes. With a sigh I walk forward and scan my card, watching with my heart in my throat as the doors slide open before me. A brightly lit hallway greets me, as well as two meandering Officials with Misdreavus at their sides.

My hand shakes as I hold out my ID card to the Official. He looks at it for a moment, at my slightly startled image, and then glances back at me. I can't read the expression on his face, but the Misdreavus looking over his shoulder looks as curious as ever. Without any remark he turns around and swipes the card. A set of doors behind them slides open, and my chest surges when I feel myself suddenly pulled in. Beside me the guard laughs, and I look down at the ground to see I'm standing on some kind of conveyor belt.

 _Calm down_. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment as darkness pools around me. The doors shut, and for a moment everything is black. Water trickles down somewhere far away, then something drops at my feet. Never one for caution, I kneel down and pick it up immediately. The device is cool and smooth in my hand, and as I skim my fingers along it I find a small switch.

A flashlight. I flick it on and take a quick survey of the space around me. A giant Duskull statue stares at me, red eyes gleaming in the bright beam. Like most other Gyms in the Sinnoh region, this one includes a puzzle. Despite having encountered two of them before, I hadn't expected one here. Hearthome was not the type of place to play with its citizens. A puzzle seems like it'd be a forbidden waste of time. This must serve a purpose.

My sweaty hand grips the flashlight tighter and I swallow hard. What am I being tested for here? The damp darkness is familiar, but not comforting. I remember it from the stomach of the Ravaged Path, and even the undead-infested building I raided with Volkner in Jubilife. As I work my way through the maze of statues and corridors I realize something else. There is no obvious ceiling. Pointing my flashlight up, I see high above me what could be part of a crossbeam. That makes the difference for me; this is nothing more than an amusement park fun house. If it were a real cave, with real walls that were not at all made of brick and plaster, I might be more apt to freak out.

The ground changes beneath my feet and I turn my gaze down, running my light over the image below me. A large circle, on a blue rug. Before I can figure out what to make of it, something flashes behind me. A gust of wind sends a chill down my spine, a burst of laughter sets my mind reeling. More to test my paranoia? Of course, the knowledge that I'm safe keeps me grounded. No stupid puzzle could scare me after what I've seen.

I lick my lips and walk on, eyes narrowed slightly and straining to see in the dark. I hear footsteps in the next corridor over from me, and I point my light at the statue in case I can see through it. A face appears through the gap between one statue and the next, red eyes sunken in to a pale and haunted face. It releases a terrible scream, drilling into my ears so loudly it hurts. Gasping, I stumble back and trip over some sort of moving creature. I fall hard to the ground and groan, my hands stinging where they skid along the rough concrete.

"Damnit," I hiss, slowing getting back to my feet. I don't enjoy being messed with. I know it's probably just bored ghost-types looking for some entertainment, but like hell I'm anyone's toy. Frustrated now, I move faster through the maze, keeping track of where I've been without having to try. Soon enough I come to another shape on the floor, this one a large pink square. After a moment of standing on it I hear a loud red buzzer, and a red light blinks above my head.

Having learned absolutely nothing, I turn around and walk back until I find a new way through. Again I come to a shape on the floor after about a minute of walking. This time it's a big pink circle, and I stand on it like I did with the triangle. This time I heard a sound like a loud ring, and a green light blinks on the wall. More darkness awaits me through the door, and what looks to be another room full of Duskull statues. But now I think I know what's going on. Whatever shape I find in the room is the one that opens the door. Presumably I could have found a blue triangle on the ground, and that would have opened the triangle room.

Of course that makes me wonder if the maze is much more complicated than it seems. If there are two possible rooms I could be entering into now, then I could very well be in the wrong one. And assuming the puzzle gets more difficult with time, there could be three rooms branching from this one, four off the next, and so on.

I check my Poketch. By now it's well after nine, but it's not my fault if I have to go through some dumb maze in order to get where I need to be. Shaking the doubt from my head, I continue on through the corridors of Duskulls. Unless this maze is meant to drive me insane, I can't imagine it goes on forever. It has to be simpler than I'm making it out to be.

Finally I spot the first blue shape in this room, a crescent. I can tell by the way my footsteps echo that this room is a lot bigger than the last, yet no matter how many corridors I turn down I don't see another blue rug. That must be it then- there's only one shape and therefore only one room that actually opens. At this point that realization does very little for my piece of mind. My nervousness long ago gave way to sheer boredom and mounting frustration.

Having reached the other side of the room, I now see the first pink rug. A star, perfect. Hardly fazed by the random ghosts and creepy faces, I turn around and head for a different corridor. It takes me another ten minutes, but eventually I reach the crescent rug. The victorious ring sounds, and the green light above the door turns on.

Light spills out from the other side and I squint, my eyes stinging. I clumsily turn off my flashlight and take a few steps forward, holding one arm over my face. "Forty-three minutes. Last I knew you didn't have a broken leg, Mr. Platina." The voice comes from a well-dressed woman standing on the opposite end of a large court. Thick blonde hair piles on top of her head, the hair spray so thick I can see it gleam in the light. For a ghost-type trainer, she's wearing an especially obnoxious dress with something on it that catches every beam of light almost as well as her hair.

This is Fantina, the Lady of Hearthome. She's the most powerful ghost-type trainer, the woman in charge of every Official. I don't know what power she actually holds, but to every civilian she is an idol and a goddess. Her right hand hangs comfortably at her side, holding firmly to a bright red PokeBall. "Do you know why you're here?" Her voice is loud, laced with an upper-class accent. I've heard it on TV and the radio- it's not natural; it's fake and exaggerated and only serves to make the person using it seem more intelligent.

It takes me a moment before I realize I'm supposed to respond. "No." I expect my voice to shake, but it doesn't.

Her head tilts down slightly, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Of course you don't. You aren't supposed to. But you were wondering weren't you? Wondering and panicking." My hands clench at my sides, my chin lifting a little in interest. "You see, most citizens would merely accept their task. They would not question it, or waste energy panicking. You are here because you panic. You are here because you are not like them."

Suddenly the floor opens up just before me and a podium rises from the ground. It stops at my waist. In the center of it, encased in a glass sphere, is a PokeBall as clean and shining as hers. My gaze flicks from it to her, and her smile widens. "And I am here to test you." The glass sphere opens with a click. "Go on, take it. You don't have a choice, anyway."

The PokeBall is cool in my hand. Immediately my heart skips, excitement boils in my chest. I want to grin like an idiot. It's been so long since I held one in my hand, since I had so much power. The podium vanishes back into the floor, and I finally tear my gaze from the ball to her.

"Good luck, Mr. Platina." Half of the lights in the room go out, and the temperature immediately drops. I toss the PokeBall once in my hand, getting accustomed to its weight. Regardless of the outcome, I am ready. I hurl it into the air, memories flooding through me as an incredible burst of light shoots out and slams into the ground.


	4. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE: HEAD OVER FEET

"Duskull," her choice is fairly obvious. It hovers above the ground, shaking back and forth and staring down me and my new partner. I take in the ghost-type's size, the way she sways in the cool, stale air. I don't know whether it's intentional or not, but as far as I know my partner can't actually deal any damage. I search Fantina's face for any show of victory, but she's careful not to reveal anything. She has the same smirk she did before, the same calculating eyes.

She can't hit us either; at least not with any moves her Pokémon is especially good at using. "Eevee," I say loudly, checking to make sure I have his attention. The little brown Pokémon glances back at me, its eyes wide and nervous. If I had to guess I'd say the most battling it has ever done before was with its littermates.

"Sand-attack!" Eevee hesitates, not sure what to do, and in that moment Duskull slams into him. He rolls over in the dirt, shaking and terrified. I almost feel bad for him. "Get up, you're okay!" He covers his face with his paws, his tails wrapping around his legs. Groaning, I try to get his attention again. Fantina is waiting for me to do something, her Duskull watching silently as Eevee cowers. "Eevee, get up." This is not going to work. "Get up or Duskull will hit you again, do you understand me?" He lowers his paws and looks back at me, slowly standing up on shaking legs.

"There you go," Fantina's voice grates on my nerves. She must see the look in my eyes, because her smirk opens up to reveal her unnaturally white teeth. "Pursuit!"

"Eevee, move!" He leaps to the side, but it doesn't matter. Duskull vanishes and reappears behind him, pushing him back to the ground. I grit my teeth and take a deep breath. "Sand-attack, now." Finally he reacts, using his tail to whip up a small stream of dirt that covers Duskull's face. He spins away, trying to wipe it off. "Good job, again." He seems somewhat bolstered by the praise, and sends up another cloud of dirt and dust.

Duskull tries to use Pursuit again, but Eevee manages to dodge much more easily this time. He stumbles, caught in his own dust cloud, and lets out a few coughs. Duskull hits him this time, but he recovers and gets right back up. Still he shivers, fear obvious in his wide eyes and stiff tail. I have no idea what we're going to do. We can't hit Duskull with Tackle, and as far I know that's Eevee's only damage-dealing move.

"Sand-attack again." I opt for a battle of attrition. Duskull won't be able to hit us if we use sand-attack enough times, and then we can waste him away until he has to use Struggle and knock himself out on the recoil damage. It's strange, thinking like this. Like a real trainer. I haven't in years, not since I was fourteen, before this whole mess began. But it's not the sort of thing a person can forget.

The dust is thick enough after several turns that I can barely see the battlefield. I can hear Fantina though, and she orders Future Sight. Eevee attempts another sand-attack, but he can't do it. "Growl, then." It won't help, but it won't hurt. The sound that comes from my partner is the least intimidating thing I've ever heard, and I can almost see Fantina smiling through the cloud.

Another Future Sight, and by now the last one attempts to strike. It moves like ripples through the air, and Eevee dodges them with ease. Now Duskull has fewer options. Every turn wears him down, and after what seems like forever he's finally into Struggle territory. Eevee has to take the damage now, but he's well enough off from the previous couple turns that he manages to hold on.

Every time Duskull hits Eevee she flinches back in pain. In only a few short turns she's too weak to continue. I take a deep breath as Fantina returns her, closing my eyes as the joy of victory surges through me. Fantina clears her throat and I look to her, breathing much heavier than I should be. Pink rings surround Eevee and he looks around confusedly. "We're going to be here all day if you keep fighting like that. You must know you have another choice." I knit my eyebrows and watch her in silence, waiting. I'm not surprised there's more. Gym battles are never one round long. But I have no idea what she means. Another choice? "I'll help you out. What if I only heal your Eevee's health, not his energy?"

I look down at Eevee, who looks just as confused as I feel. The pink rings vanish and he shakes himself, dust

flying off his thick fur. "Haunter," Fantina tosses another PokeBall into the air, and I watch my partner worriedly.

"Sand-attack," but Eevee can't do it. He looks at me in panic, his entire body trembling. Before I can respond Haunter slams a well-aimed Sucker Punch straight into him, and he flies backward. I look up at Fantina through the dust cloud.

"You always have a second option, think." Eevee gets up slowly, visibly hurt. Biting my lip, I try to make him use Growl. But that's gone too, and it leaves us open for another Sucker Punch. He cries out and rolls through the dirt, struggling to get up. My chest aches and guilt grips at my throat- there has to be another way.

What is Eevee's ability? Given his personality I'd have to guess it's one more suited to running than fighting. Besides, it's not like it'd help us deal damage to a ghost-type. I know I'm missing something obvious. "Eevee, Struggle!" I order it on a whim, but it works. Not only does it work, it works well.

Eevee runs forward and hits Haunter as hard as he can. The ghost-type vanishes for a second, then reappears in a stream of black fog several meters back. _Now we're getting somewhere_. Eevee scrambles back to his feet, weakened from the attack. But Haunter is much worse off, and my mouth turns up into a smile when I realize why. "Again," after a moment of hesitation Eevee obeys, bolting forward to hit Haunter while he's still reeling. It sends him back again, but he recovers faster this time and lands another Sucker Punch. I can tell Eevee's almost at his limit now. He can barely hold his small body up, his legs trembling as his sides heave with effort. But he's fighting.

"One more time!" But Fantina orders another Sucker Punch first. It skims along Eevee's side, and only results in giving him a better opening to attack. He throws his entire body weight into Haunter, forcing the ghost-type to the ground. His translucent body shivers and sputters, his eyes closing in exhaustion. "Eevee," I look down to the little Pokémon, watching with a heavy heart as he forces himself to keep standing. "Eevee, you're okay." He nods, but sits down anyway. I hear Fantina chuckling and I look up, unable to get past how absurdly _shiny_ she is.

"Well done, boy. One more, and then we'll talk." The pink rings appear around Eevee again, and for a few moments he looks supremely relaxed. Fantina bounces her final PokeBall in her hand, her expression one of excitement and almost… pride? I don't know what to make of it so I turn away, looking back at Eevee. I nod to him, and he shuffles his paws nervously. He's still scared, I can tell, but he's going to fight.

"Mismagius," her last Pokémon is obviously very strong and very confident. They're all still for assessment, so they can't be too strong, but I know from looking at her that she knows she can win. Eevee looks at me again and I give him another nod, hoping that he gets some small comfort from it. Fantina waits a moment, then orders Mismagius to strike. Leaves materialize all around the Magical Pokémon, mesmerizing Eevee as they flutter around him. I attempt to warn him, but before I can get out the words they slices into him, knocking him off balance and making him whimper in shock.

"Eevee, use Struggle again!" But Mismagius is too fast, and she readies another Magical Leaf before Eevee can attack. They push him back further, forcing him to the ground with his tail over his face. "Get up! Come on!" I don't want to be mean, but I know he's just being cowardly. "You can do this, _get up_." His body shakes and he forces himself to his paws, running at Mismagius before she can attack again. He growls adorably, though I know it's meant to be fierce. "That's it, just like that," at this point I'm almost speaking to myself, as Eevee gives no indication he can hear me.

Mismagius moves to hit him again, but this time with an attack he can dodge. She lets loose a beam of

psychic power, and he easily leaps aside. His body shakes when he lands, but he catches himself before he falls over. The frustration on Mismagius's face is clear when she tries to hit him again. Her Psybeam barely catches his tail, making him squeak but keep moving. The next one creates a massive cloud of dust, and for a moment all I can see is her dark, misty form in the dirt. "Eevee!" I try, but I don't get a response.

Suddenly the ghost-type lurches forward, skidding along the dirt. I see Eevee struggling to stand up not far from her, enduring as the recoil hits him hard. He stumbles, unbalanced, but stays on his paws. Gleaming leaves appear again, and Eevee attempts to run from them. They slice into his fur and he rolls along the ground again, coming to a stop not far from me.

I don't see him moving or breathing where I stand, but somehow I'm not panicking. Mismagius moves closer and creates another storm of leaves. They cut into him just as harshly, and I flinch away as if I'm the one who was struck. She stops, her expression perplexed. She leans over Eevee, her dark tendrils drifting in the dusty air. I hold my breath, waiting as time slows down. Fantina watches with interest, eyes narrowed.

Eevee's tail twitches once. His sides heave as he slowly forces himself to his paws, his face tight with pain. Mismagius starts another round of Magical Leaf, but before she can Eevee launches himself forward and sinks his teeth into her head. A terrible, unearthly scream erupts from her mouth, and she shakes wildly to get him off. But he holds on, his fangs holding strong to her body. She shakes and shudders, scrambling back, and only once she's dragged them half-way across the battlefield does he finally let go. He lets out another adorable little snarl as she writhes in pain, snapping at her as she hovers backward from him. I can't suppress a smile, and I order him to attack again.

He leaps forward and bites down, hard. Her body starts to dematerialize, the world behind her growing more and more visible through her weakening body. Finally she relents, sinking to the ground. Eevee jumps off her, panting heavily as she collapses. After a moment Fantina returns her, and almost instantaneously Eevee flops over on to his side.

I walk over the line of the battlefield and kneel beside him, acting on instinct. Careful not to make him any more uncomfortable than he already is, I pick him and hold him close to my chest. The dust on his fur coats my vest, but I don't mind. Lights flicker on high above us, and I squint as Fantina's steps create tiny clouds of dust where she walks. "Congratulations." She offers me her hand, and it takes me a moment to realize I'm meant to shake it. "You were given one of the worst possible situations you could have. This test is completely randomized. You were just as likely to receive Weavile as you were Eevee. But you won, through sheer willpower." She found this funny, but I don't know why. "I had to help you, of course, but it's rare that I don't. Duskull," at this she turned to the shadows on the edge of the Gym, motioned for a pair of dull red eyes to come toward her. "You did very well. This is for you." Duskull dropped something small and metallic into her hand, and she placed it into mine. "You ought to be proud of yourself. You are now a Hearthome-recognized member of the Sinnoh Trainer Corps."

EEVEE HAS JOINED THE TEAM.

Name: N/A

Eevee, Male

Normal

Modest nature, loves to eat.


	5. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR: ECHO OF MEMORY

The Relic Badge gleams in the light. I run my thumb over it, entranced by the power such a simple thing holds. My third badge. Of course, it's the first one I have with me. But I've collected two other in the course of my life, and I'm therefore one step closer to completing the goal I set for myself.

" _I always wanted to take the Gym Challenge. My parents were nervous about me going out on my own, but I was starting to wear them down…"_ I can see her face in my mind's eye- the shimmer of her bright green eyes, the puckered scar on her cheek.

" _Anyway, I was wondering if maybe you and I could do it? Obviously we wouldn't be taking on all the gym leaders and we probably can't even get to all the city-states, but we could try to collect all the badges. It'd give us some sort of tangible reason for doing all this."_ Her voice is so clear, so loud I can almost hear it. My arm tightens around Eevee without intending to. Grief surges in my chest, and I swallow hard. I can't afford to think about her now. There's time for that later, when my memories will inevitably come rushing back to me before I can even think of going to sleep.

"What, are you waiting to be knighted?" I shake my head and stand slowly, still holding Eevee tightly in my arms. "In any case, you were lucky to get an Eevee with Adaptability. If he had a different ability you would have lost." She shrugs and takes a step back, that same sly smile still on her face. "That uniform suits you, somehow. That's good, you'll be wearing it a lot from now on." She seems to have lost interest in talking to me, turning around and walking back to the other side of the battlefield where I first saw her.

"Uh, wait, Lady Fatina!" She stops and turns, her eyes glimmering as she looks back at me. "What happens now? What… what did all of this prove?" A surprisingly loud and raucous laugh shakes her body, and she waves at me as if I asked the most meaningless thing in the world.

"I told you, didn't I? You're a member of the Trainer Corps now. I will personally escort you to our training base in Solaceon. I'll explain everything to you along the way. Why you are the way you are, where you're from, what you're new job is, everything." She grins and waves me off again. "Now take the work credits we've just added to your person and buy yourself something delicious in town. Your tasks have been updated. You have one night to say goodbye to your cushy room and make sure you have everything you could possibly need. You won't be returning."

I nod and thank her, holding Eevee close to my chest. The pink circles from earlier rise up out of the floor and I without jolting him too much I gently lay my new partner down in the center of them. He curls into a ball and yawns, obviously quite comfortable. I can't help but smile at him, he's so completely different from any of my other Pokémon. Scarlet was the only one who looked even remotely like him, and she would never look as vulnerable as this. After a few moments I reach down and scratch behind his ears. He makes a weird purring sound and starts to lean into my hand, obviously very comfortable. "You deserve a name." I keep my voice low, like it might scare him. "Hm… what do you like?" He doesn't seem to care, perfectly content to snuggle into my palm. "How about Finn?" He licks my fingers, and I grin. "Alright, you're Finn then."

I hold him until I need to leave the building, when I return him to his PokeBall. I finally feel comfortable, excited to actually do what I have planned for tomorrow. Something completely new and different, something to break the awful schedule I've been in, is endlessly appealing to me. It's about midday, maybe a little later. It's strange how many people are out, how many people apparently get to leave their workplaces for lunch. But they aren't leaving tomorrow. It's my last day here, and somehow also the first

day I really get to experience the city.

Finn's PokeBall is heavy in my pocket, but only because I can't stop thinking about it. A world with Pokémon is completely different than one without them. Just knowing I have him with me now is exhilarating. I don't know if it's some sort of trainer's instinct or a result from the flood of memories I got battling Fantina, but whatever it is it makes me want my team back.

I don't know who the regular customers are at the only true restaurant in town, but I get a table fast enough that I really don't care. My ID card accepts the meal I intend to buy, which is great because I only picked it because it's the most expensive-looking on the menu. If I get work credits for whatever I want, I intend to use them. The temptation to let Finn out to sit beside me is extremely difficult to ignore, and after a little while I relent and let him curl up by my feet. He's apparently too timid to try and run away, his eyes darting around nervously and his tail pulled in tight along his body. Worried for him, I bend down and pluck him from the ground. He squirms a little but doesn't fight, sinking into my arms easily.

His fur is soft and incredibly warm. I hold him close to me, unable to keep from smiling. I've heard Eevee are extremely likeable, and looking at Finn I can't argue with that. Still, his cowering and nervousness is alien to me. He reminds me a little bit of Elizabeth, a small Togepi Cheryl and I found, but she was just a baby while he seems a bit older. When Lenny was younger he acted a little like this too, but he got over it once he became acquainted with the rest of my team.

The first Pokémon I ever received was Scout. I liked her immediately, and when disaster struck she was my most valued partner and the only one to live through our first experience with the undead. As time went on, the little fire-type and I became more like twins than a set of trainer and Pokémon. We fought fluidly beside each other, covering every mistake and moving like one organism. For four years, until we reached Jubilife, she was only partner. She saved my life countless times, and I hers.

Inside the Quarantine, we were inseparable. She kept me not just alive, but sane. Scout was the perfect partner; she was smart, resourceful, responsible, and brave. I cling tighter to Finn, and he blinks at me in surprise. Comparing anyone else to her is just unfair. I don't know where she is now, she or any of my other team mates. After I was shot in the chest everything fell apart. Between the pain and the sudden explosion of noise around me I had no idea what was going on. But I remember a voice calling out through the interference, loud and crackling.

" _Citizens of Oreburgh! Do not panic! You are now under the protection of the United Sinnoh Restoration Front! Please remain calm!"_

It's complete nonsense to me. I haven't heard anything about the United Sinnoh Restoration Front since I arrived, and part of me wants to believe it was some sort of pain-induced hallucination. But if it wasn't, if somehow they were the ones who found my team in Oreburgh, then they may very well still have them. I don't know how we got separated, but they aren't here. I haven't seen them or heard anything about whether they're still alive or not.

My breath catches in my throat at the thought, and I run a nervous hand through my hair. Of course, it's entirely possible that I am like everyone else here. That I did not exist before the city. That this is my entire life, and just like all of coworkers I know nothing of my past. My memories may very well be implanted or otherwise faked by my only-mostly-sane mind. Finn licks at my hand, and I watch him for a moment before sighing. Of course it all happened. It'd be insane to think it _didn't_. The images are so clear to me: the destruction of my hometown, the seething mass of undead flesh in the Windworks, the tower of smoke spilling up from her funeral pyre.

For her sake, I have to continue remembering, continue with the absolute certainty that everything I see before I fall asleep really happened. If I forget, or give in to the creeping suspicion that it was all a dream, then she lived for nothing. I cannot let that happen. My food arrives and I eat slowly, occasionally feeding a bite to Finn. He doesn't seem to like it, and I don't blame him. It's not really anything a Pokémon should eat.

Of course, my new credits cover a meal for him too, and he devours all of it just minutes after our waiter brings it to the table. Stunned, I watch as he licks the bowl clean, only stopping to glance at me guiltily. I know the look in his eyes, but I can't believe it's actually there after all he just ate. He looks starving. I order more food for him, and he eats it just as quickly. "Wow…" I had no idea Pokémon could eat this much. Though I suppose it makes sense, given the amount of energy they exert. But Scout was fine after a bowl of rice. Not even Lenny ate this much.

Sighing, I return Finn to his PokeBall and head for the nearest bus stop. My attitude is completely different now, as if my very world has changed. I will never take this bus to the factories again; I will never have to calculate every response and mindless chatter to fit in with everyone else's. I have a badge, a uniform, and a partner now. My life is forever changed, and within the limits of possibility I couldn't be happier. Other workers crowd the bus, but I pay them no mind. A somewhat frightening urge to run or yell plays at the edge of my mind, and I swallow it back. At every stop the crowd thins, until there are only a few of us and we're at my apartment complex.

I slide my card with something of a flourish that immediately afterward I hope no one saw. Releasing Finn, I let him follow me upstairs and to my room. Someone brought me a bed for him while I was gone, and tidied up my room. It's nothing really of note- my room is cleaned about once a day. I lazily fall back on to my bed, and Finn climbs up my legs and chest so he can curl up beside me. His fur is warm by my face, and I scratch him behind his ears in the spot he likes so much. A strange little purr rumbles from his throat, and at once I'm reminded of Scarlet. She was spoiled in a way Finn is not. Spoiled perhaps in her behavior, in a level of brattiness that was unprecedented in our situation.

We met in Jubilife. She was meant to be Volkner's Pokémon, but for whatever reason she rejected him for me. Her attitude sometimes clashed with the other members of my team, and I think she prided herself on being difficult. But of course that doesn't change how incredible she was as a Pokémon and as a friend. She fought by my side when no one else could, and proved her worth time and time again after Scout and Dracula, my Crobat, were incapacitated. Her personality was somewhat baffling to me, but I came to love her for it. Scarlet was so profoundly and wonderfully Scarlet that it didn't matter how difficult she could be sometimes.

In fact, she was the one who killed Erin after she shot me. At least, I have reason to believe she did. Pokémon are not meant to have enough power to kill, they have some inhibitor in them that prevents even their strongest attacks from causing death. But the inhibitor can be broken. I think fighting the undead broke that inhibitor for everyone on my team. If a Pokémon can kill, it's hard to break the habit. I could probably never have a real battle with Scout or Scarlet like I did with Finn. When they got too worked up, when the fighting began to bring back memories of the life-or-death situations they've been in, I don't think either of them could resist the final blow.

Of course, I have no intention of ever finding out. I want my team back, no matter what they're like. It's been only a few months- if they're free, they must be looking for me. I can feel it. And by waiting around for someone else to save me I've wasted their time. Becoming a member of the Trainer Corps brings me one step closer to finding them, to being a team again. And I intend to find them no matter how far I have to go.


	6. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE: NON-PLAYER CHARACTER

The bus takes me somewhere completely different from anywhere else in the city. On the outskirts of the factory district, alone and hidden behind rows of windowless warehouses, lies a massive landing strip. A helicopter waits at the far end, a rather decrepit looking plane at the other. Finn's tail swishes back and forth along the dusty ground, but he doesn't leave my side to explore. He actually looks terrified at his new surroundings, at the strangeness of this desolate place. At least the center of town yesterday could pretend to be well-populated.

We've come here with one other new trainer. He looks anxious, but I doubt I seem much different. The two of us haven't spoken, which must have looked strange to the other workers on the bus. Usually people wearing the same uniform converse easily, chattering about random day-to-day matters. But I don't even know his name, and I really don't care enough to find out. I do know, however, that he has a Pokémon with him. I can see its PokeBall hanging from his belt; I figured he'd release it once I let Finn out, but he hasn't yet and Finn's been cowering at my feet for a while.

Fantina arrives in expectedly low-key fashion several moments later. Despite being the type of woman apparently unafraid to wear a bright pink dress that literally reflects every beam of light that hits it, I know that as the Lady of Hearthome City she wouldn't do anything to garner a crowd. She rides a bus like everyone else, though hers is private. From the outside none of us could tell the difference. It's smart, and I don't doubt it was her idea.

"Good morning, boys," she smiles at us, her expression obscured by dark sunglasses. Today she's wearing some sort of black jeans and sweatshirt combination, though not the gross kind I or anyone else I know would wear. Her clothing is tight but she moves easily. A Mismagius, different from the one Finn and I fought yesterday, hovers at her side. I think I'm meant to be intimidated by her, but I'm too excited. I want to get on with whatever it is we plan to get start today.

She reaches into a black bag at her side and takes out a strange-looking device. "Show me your wrists." We hold out our arms to her, and she brings the machine over our Poketches. They unlatch and I slide mine off, watching as the screen fades to black. She must see the questioning look in my eyes, because she starts speaking almost immediately. "Right, your Poketches have been deactivated. You won't need them where you're going. You'll be issued new ID cards as well, though they've been cut from the system remotely so you can keep them if you like. They're just chunks of plastic now."

I consider handing mine over to her now, but I decide not to. Once I get out of this whole mess it'll be a fun thing to show my team. _Yes, they really called me Lucas Platina. What am I, a comic book character?_ "Wait," the boy at my side reaches into his pocket and drops his into her hand. She nods and looks expectantly at me, but I shake my head.

With a smirk she turns on her heel, Mismagius following gracefully behind. For a moment I don't know what to do, but the other boy starts to walk after her and she doesn't stop him, so I start moving too. Finn stumbles a little to get to his paws, visibly nervous. Almost instinctively I bend down and pick him up, holding him close. I'm not used to having such a timid partner, but it's fine. He's all I have, anyhow.

Fantina leads us to the helicopter at the end of the landing strip. A man steps out holding a pile of equipment in his arms. We layer on vests and emergency gear, including a parachute and a backpack of emergency rations. The gym leader must guess that I'm confused, something she's apparently rather good at, because she lets out a little laugh and explains that they're "just in case."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you. It's all just there to keep our minds at ease in case something goes wrong. It's highly unlikely that we'll actually face any danger." The other trainer doesn't seem too worried, so I keep my mouth shut and finish putting on the equipment. Fantina configures a microphone and headset around her face, then checks to make sure ours work as well.

Her voice crackles in my ear, and I wince for a moment before the other trainer helps me turn the volume down. Not that I couldn't have done that on my own, of course. I resist the urge to snap at him, and mumble a "thank you" instead. Finn rubs his face against my chest and licks at my neck, tail stiff and nervous. I ruffle the fur on his head, but it doesn't help much. A weak little mewl escapes his mouth and I can't help but roll my eyes. I can't do much else for him, and I don't want to look stupid, so I return him to his PokeBall.

Fantina makes a gesture towards the door, and I file in with the other trainer. The man who handed us our equipment slides into the passenger seat, the pilot already prepared to leave. Fantina pulls the door shut and sits down across from us, her Mismagius hovering beside her with the creepy stare characteristic of her species. The gym leader takes off her sunglasses, revealing pale brown, almost golden eyes. For a moment I'm reminded of another amber gaze, that of my best friend. Or, he was my best friend. I haven't seen Leo in months, and we didn't part on particularly fantastic terms.

"Ah," the gym leader leans back in her chair, smiling. "I love this thing. Yes, it is loud, but it is terribly comfortable. These headphones are good at blocking out the noise anyhow." I don't say anything, and neither does the other trainer. Even as the propellers start spinning we keep silent, the awkwardness extending until Fantina can't take it anymore. "Well… is there anything you would like to ask?" She seemed almost agitated, one thin eyebrow raised higher than the other.

The other trainer opens his mouth, but closes it, apparently reconsidering his thoughts. I try to organize my own questions, but I can't think of where to begin. Even though we're clearly meant to be different than the other people I met in the city, I'm still not sure to what degree I'm supposed to remember anything. Am I supposed to know my real name isn't Lucas? Should I be able to recall my old team mates? And what about my nightmares? Does the other kid have them too?

"Where are we going?" I turn and look at him, taking in the other trainer's appearance for the first time. His hair is a sort of black like mine, but his eyes are genuinely blue instead of gray. He's paler than me too, and he's built to be tall and skinny while I'm shorter and sturdier. There's determination in his eyes, though it's mingled with nervousness and fear. When he speaks I find myself transfixed on him; only now do I see he has an aura that demands attention.

"Ah. We are going to Solaceon. There you will meet the other trainers and learn how to work as a group." I already heard this, so I'm not that interested in listening to her. Instead I watch as the other trainer processes this information, running his hand over his chin. "You will be in a bunker with a lot of other people your age. It is a lot of fun, most of your time is spent learning how to fight and understand your partner as best you can. Once you get there, you have the choice of switching the Pokémon I gave you for something else. Most trainers do not do this, but you are welcome to."

"I don't think I'll bother, I like mine just fine." He speaks absently, already conjuring another question. "What are we supposed to fight once we get there?" I notice he's not asking the kind of questions I hoped he would- like whether his name is real or why he remembers a life beyond Hearthome.

Fantina's smirk deepens, and I get the sense that she's enjoying this. "Well, we initially gathered the Trainer Corps to fight the undead, but herding them into the Quarantine turned out to be much easier. But of course, when one enemy sleeps another awakens. This time, it is the USRF, which I am certain you have

heard of." I haven't, really, but I keep my mouth shut. "They are anarchists- their 'restoration" is merely a return to the complete chaos this country arose from. So think of yourselves as new recruits into the Sinnoh League military." She clears her throat, and the sound echoes in my skull. "At this point it is unclear how large the threat is. They wish to destroy us so they can become powerful themselves. Many of their highest-ranking officials are nothing more than bloodthirsty, power-hungry men of high blood and little respect for the people they are supposedly fighting for." A nervous look flashes in her eyes, and she laughs a bit too loud. "Ah, I apologize. That was something of a tangent. Did I answer your question?"

"Yes, thank you." The boy chews on the inside of his cheek a moment before speaking again. "Why me- er, us?" He glances at me quickly, and at first I'm a little insulted that he forgot I was there. But then again, I've been completely silent this entire time. "You chose us out of everyone else in Hearthome. Why?"

"Tell me, boy, what do you remember about your parents?"

"What?" He seems taken aback, not expecting that kind of response. His eyebrows knit together and he swallows hard. "Uh, not much, I guess. I remember they died. I remember I lived with a friend of my father's for most of my life." He's guarded suddenly, no longer eager to speak. "But what does that have to do with-"

She raises a hand, and he falls silent. "You have probably noticed that you are different from the people around you. They do not question what happens to them. They do not worry about their monotonous jobs, or the obvious fakeness ever-present in their day-to-day lives. They are happy in ignorance." Her heavy sigh floods my ear, and I touch my hand to the right side of the headphone. She's speaking so close to me, it seems, that all I can think about is what she's saying. "This is because they have been treated for it. Our citizens have grown to expect absolute safety and satisfaction in their lives. We long ago made the decision to wipe them free of their deeper thoughts long ago. We rid them of worries so they can experience bliss. We attempt this on citizens from the Quarantine, and most of the time it works perfectly. But you two, like the others we send to our Trainer Corps, are quite different from your fellow citizens. You retain your curiosity, your questioning of the society around you. We consider those who do not resist us 'Non-Player Characters.' Those who do are, obviously, 'Player Characters.' It's just our way of clarifying these things.

"We have no place for you in our city. So we make use of you as best we can. The Trainer Corps is made up of trainers from all over the country, but the Hearthome unit is special. They are stronger in mind than other trainers. And though some may disagree with our methods, we believe they are the straightest path to happiness, and the only one for such a large population." She takes a deep breath and smiles a bit weakly. It comes together slowly for me, the realization that they're essentially brainwashing their citizens into happiness. My gut reaction is not to buy into it, to say that they can't really be happy if they don't know what it's like to be unhappy. Anger flushes through my blood, and I can feel heat rise to my face. It's insane.

The images of my life immediately after Oreburgh suddenly make sense. The Alakazam was attempting to rob me of something powerful, of my will to live as myself. Whatever it was that anchored me saved me from being just like every other person I forced myself to speak to in Hearthome. Slowly, I sit back in my seat. My palms are sweaty and I can't think straight. I don't know what to say or do or how to respond to this. I knew something was going on, but this just seems so _wrong_ , so impossibly awful that I can't believe she can explain it all so plainly.

It's extremely difficult to hold back the bile in my stomach, but I force myself back to the conversation. They've continued on without me. "And… what should we expect when we arrive?" The other trainer's voice is tight, and at least I hope he's just as freaked out about all of this as I am.

Fantina smiles again and leans into her hand on the armrest. "Balloons and fanfare."


End file.
